Dear James
by barefoot friar
Summary: A package is sent to the print shop, along with a forgotten letter...


**Author's Notes: **Just in case anyone is wondering, I'm still writing Save the Last Dance. It's just taking a while longer than I thought to finish the next chapter...

**Dear James... A Liberty's Kids Fanfiction**

_Knock, knock._

" Oh, that must be the mail!" Sarah set aside her notepad and hurried to answer the door. James checked to make sure she was occupied, then leaned over her paper, scanning her writing. " No misspellings?" He sighed. " How does she do it?"

" James Hiller?"

His head snapped up, face bright red. " I-I wasn't reading her report!"

The man who stood in the doorway raised an eyebrow. " Sorry to interrupt your work, but I have a delivery for a James Hiller...?"

" Oh." The boy went to join Sarah at the door, still smiling awkwardly from his embarrassment. The messenger immediately placed a wrapped wooden box in his hands. James shook it gently. " What's inside?"

" I'm not sure. I was told to give it to you when I reached Philadelphia." The man turned to leave, giving them one backwards look. " It's from a family named Prachett..."

" Don't know 'em." James thanked the man, then slowly eased the door shut. " I wonder what it is..."

Henri raced across the room as peered at the package with obvious curiosity. " You _are _a journalist. Maybe itz from a fan?"

Sarah giggled. " I doubt he has any fans of his articles, with the way he spells."

Blushing again, James moved towards the printing press. " Well, sorry I don't have flawless grammar, Miss Never-Makes-Mistakes!" With a glum frown, he set the box down on the press, laying a hand on the thin brown paper that covered it. " I won't know until I open it..."

Sarah and Henri huddled beside him, just as eager to look inside. James ripped away the wrapping, tore off the lid, and moved aside a cloth that lay over the contents. His frown deepened. A single sheet of paper was placed upon another cloth, which was mishapped from the objects under it. Resisting the urge to simply look first, read later, he grabbed the paper and scanned over it, reading aloud for his friends:

_Dear James Hiller,_

_Though I am sure you would not recall ever meeting with us, we of the Prachett family would like to send our dearest wishes to the son of Richard and Mary Hiller. We hope that this letter finds you well._

_Now, I am afraid that I must turn attention to matters of business. My name is Eric Prachett, and I was once a close friend to your father and mother. I send my deepest sympathies to you in regards to their passing. I am writing to inform you that some personal possessions were recovered after the fire. They have been in my care for the last fourteen years; I have been keeping them until I could be sure of your whereabouts. When I read an article of yours in Benjamin Franklin's newspaper, I thought it would be best to send them to his print shop._

_Again, I hope that this message finds its way to you, and finds you well,_

_Sincerely,_

_Eric Pratchett._

Sarah and Henri watched silently as James lowered the letter, and reached towards the box. Then, with a faraway look, he grabbed the package and quickly strode up the stairs, leaving his friends behind.

00000

" No mail today?"

Sarah jumped slightly, gazing up at Moses. " Oh... no, there wasn't. Besides that messenger, no one has even come by."

Moses nodded, a frown on his lips as he sat plates on the dining room table. " From what you tell me, James sounded upset. Has he come down yet today?"

" No... he's just stayed in his room. I... I'm too afraid to ask if he needs something. I don't want to interrupt anything." She sighed, placing her chin in her hand, eyes closing slowly. " I'm worried for him, though. It must be hard... he never even knew his parents."

Reaching across her, Moses placed a plate by her arm. She scooted her chair backwards, tucking a fork and knife under the sides of the china. " I can't even imagine what it must be like for him... he never talks much, about his childhood."

" Upset or not, it isn't good for him to miss meals. Finish setting the table, Sarah. I'll go tell him to come down."

" Wait!" Sarah stood, letting her fistful of silverware down on the table. " Please, let me go speak with him. It's just... I can almost understand. I haven't seen Father in so long... maybe I can relate, even if only slightly."

00000

James's door was shut tightly, but not locked. Sarah held a lit candle in one hand, and with the other she turned the handle, trying not to make too much noise. " James?" she called in. No answer. She poked her head past the door, holding the candle up.

James was asleep, curled up on his bed, still in his clothes. She frowned, moving across the room to where he lay. Upon closer inspection, she saw clearly the mark of tears on his face. " Oh James... I'm so sorry..."

She backed away, surveying the mess on the lower half of the bed. Random items were nestled in with the sheets – a candle holder, a pair of eyeglasses, a book with a French title, and others that she didn't try to look at. For some reason, it felt like she was invading his privacy. But how else could she help him? It wouldn't be best for him to be alone, so upset. Setting the candle down, she grabbed a chair and pulled it up to his bedside, where she sat, trying not to cry for him.

In the dim lighting, shadows played across his reddened face, making him look much younger. She noticed that his shirt was unbuttoned, his hair let down with strands sticking to his cheeks. _I really should tie it up... but he looks so nice like that. _As that thought passed her mind, she felt an instant wave of guilt. He shouldn't look so strangely handsome in his moment of despair.

Then again, he shouldn't look handsome to her, in any way. She blushed. Perhaps this wasn't the right thing... sitting there, admiring his disarray. She reached for the candle, a little disappointed in herself for feeling a slight attraction to her best friend, in such a time.

As she lifted the candle, she saw the letter, sitting under it with its words deeply black in contrast with the paper. This Eric Prachett... how dare he speak with such an abrupt manner, about such a delicate subject? Without thinking, she grabbed it up, and began to read it.

With a surprised gasp, she realized that it wasn't the same letter. Instead of a short greeting, it read:

_Dear James..._

_I feel rather foolish writing this, but your mother thinks it a wise thing. And she is always right! So, I sit at my desk and pen these words, for you, son._

_In two weeks I will be departing across the sea to England, where I will be staying until I travel to France, where I will reside until I travel to Germany! And many other countries along the way. So many places in two short years! Yet, they will seem like decades, being away from my wife, and you, my beautiful son. _

_I must be brave, though. I am a merchant's son, a merchant myself, and we do what we can to support our families. I promise that I will bring back something for you to play with. Something that you will always keep with you. What do you think of a nice book?_

_I ask you this, hoping that your mother will remember to read this to you, two years from now. If not, then she will certainly be in trouble with me! I joke, son. I love your mother, and I love you dearly._

_But the real reason I am writing this letter to you, dear one, is I am afraid. The passage from my home to England will of course be by sea. I am filled with terror every time I merely see the ocean! I am petrified to think that I will have to travel atop it, for so long! You must think your father a coward, yet I fear for my life!_

_So, in my paranoia, I'd like to tell you something in the event I do not return. Please read these following words, and keep them with you, always._

_I wish every good thing that God has created to you, my dear one. I wish tall trees that never cease to grow, to offer shade for you from a sun that I pray will always shine, for you. I wish ocean waves (that will not frighten you), and I wish them to be a constant source of wonder. I hope that you will continue on to discover what every horizon holds secret, to leave no question unanswered, to pursue the truth and goodness in this world until it is all you know._

_I wish you love, that you may know my love and find someone that loves you. Your mother promises that her wedding ring will someday be yours, to present to the woman that you choose to be an excellent husband to._

_  
I wish you knowledge, and good judgment, that you would be kind to those that you do not understand, and those that harm you. I hope that you excel in whatever you set your mind to, and that you are brave enough to dream._

_But most of all, I wish you would know, in the event of my passing, that I hold all the love that is possible for a man to hold in my heart, and it is for you. My son, I hope that you remember me with a smile, and that you do not shed too many tears._

_With Great Love,_

_Richard Hiller, your father._

Sarah felt the tears falling down her face, but did not wipe them away. She couldn't stop her eyes from traveling across James's face, seeing the streaks of red. He had shed too many tears.

With a hand clutching her locket to her chest, keeping it from brushing against the bed, she leaned close to his face, and kissed his forehead gently. Then she stood, replacing the letter. " I think..." she whispered, hoping that somehow, James could hear her through his dreams, " I think your father has blessed you in many ways."

Closing the door quietly, Sarah smiled. " Sleep well."

00000

**Author's Notes:** Okay... that was like, the most sappy thing I've ever written. Yay! I know that there's probably a million spelling errors, but I was typing fast, so... oh well. You get the point. I hope it was okay... and not so terribly stupid... anyways, if you read it, why not review...?


End file.
